


Clemency

by gxlden



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24821032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gxlden/pseuds/gxlden
Summary: Innocent displays of physical affection had never been necessary before.
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Ichimaru Gin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Clemency

**Author's Note:**

> damn i love aigin

The heavy record book slammed onto the desk with a bear-sized thud, sending up an almost undetectable cloud of dust. It was sneaky and pervasive, quick to invade Gin’s airways as he groaned and revved himself up for some recreational complaining. After hours, when the offices were empty, Gin’s voice would get louder and his objections would get bolder, obstinately calling into question all of Aizen’s decisions and intentions whenever he knew they were alone. The ribbing was harmless; no matter what either one of them said, Gin would follow Aizen wherever he went, listen whenever he spoke. The infantile griping was little more than a distraction to him. 

“Why we gotta do all this work if we’re just gonna disappear one day, huh?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. “Seems like such a waste of our skills, Aizen-taichou.” 

The politics of the Sereitei and the clerical work of their division were insignificant compared to the grandiosity of the plans Aizen had. They were pointless formalities, as useless as the explanations he defended himself with because at the end of the day, Gin didn’t really care. Part of him just enjoyed teasing and bemoaning and annoying his captain, knowing he would always push it aside and let his loyal side take over in the end, dutifully following orders because really, what else was he supposed to do?

Aizen had made himself comfortable on the sofa with his own work, light reading compared to the massive encyclopedia-sized ledger Gin had to pour through to compare ancient precedents for budget allotments. It wasn’t necessary for the captain to be there to supervise but he had decided to stay behind anyway, and while neither one of them was likely to say it aloud, they were both happy to be there, working together in silence. 

Technically, it wasn’t completely quiet. The ticking clock on the wall blended into the background of their consciousness as rhythmic white noise, but the scratching of Gin’s pen on the paper kept changing, echoed by the crescendoes of pages turning and papers shuffling across the desk. Even with his back turned to him, Aizen could clearly picture Gin’s face and all its subtle expressions as he worked — the crease in his brow and sharpness of his pursed lips. Every now and again he’d absently click the pen cartridge and sigh and Aizen couldn’t help smiling. He didn’t know why. 

At one point, the sounds came to an abrupt halt and Aizen felt the air thrum with a sudden, subtle tension. He heard Gin push his chair back and at least six of his vertebrae crack and snap as he stretched. The soft tamp of footsteps cut quickly and quietly across the room towards him, drawing up right behind the couch. Gin's presence at Aizen’s back had the usual weight to it; warm and somehow shadowed, unsettling to anyone but Aizen. 

Sitting there stiller than a statue, Aizen could feel Gin’s breath before he actually felt him. And then there were lips against the back of his neck, the tip of a nose brushing his hair at the most vulnerable part of his nape and causing his nerves to tremble from a single dry, fleeting kiss. Quiet and soft, Gin drew away without any sort of fanfare, but his breath continued to linger around the back of Aizen’s neck. A subtle trepidation draped across his shoulders and threatened to shatter the glass frame that had settled around that perfect little moment should he even think of moving, but he couldn’t fight his own curiosity. Aizen turned and looked up at Gin, wanting to see the smile he could still feel pressed against his skin. 

It looked how it always looked: amused, secretive, unreadable. Who knew what Gin was thinking?

“What?” Aizen asked in exasperation.

“Nothing,” Gin said. “I just wanted to kiss ya.” 

Before Aizen could even begin to overthink those words, picking apart micro expressions and vocal tremors because he just wasn’t ready to accept Gin’s love without question yet, Gin leaned down and kissed him again, at the crown of his forehead, pushing his lips through the thick hair on Aizen’s brow to meet his skin once again. 

“Not everything has to have a reason,” he said as he slowly pulled away. The breathy words made the wisps of hair on his forehead tremble. Aizen swallowed down a cube of ice that had suddenly crystallized in his throat and watched Gin as he promptly returned to his desk, putting a garish twist in the neck that he had so tenderly kissed just moments ago. The ice melted when he finally opened his mouth, but to his own surprise, no words came out. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t ruin the moment. When he realized that, he simply cleared his throat and nodded, as if to himself, and returned to his work without another word. 

Although, ten minutes later, he had failed to turn even a single page in his notebook, both the pen in his hand and heart in his chest stilled in contemplation. The amount of time that Gin had his lips pressed to Aizen’s neck and his forehead totaled less than three whole seconds but the ethereal feeling of his kiss against Aizen’s skin had yet to disappear, making it nearly impossible for him to think about anything else.   
In the past, all of their affections, at least physical, had only ever occurred behind closed doors, locked, with maybe a simple barrier thrown up for good measure. The barracks and offices had always been understood to be off-limits due to their proximity to the real world, the frequency of prying eyes and ears among their division and the fact that Gin could be rather loud when he wanted to be. And they just couldn’t risk exposure. Though he would always return Gin’s smiles and allow their fingers to linger around tea cups and packets of paper, Aizen had never let anything as bold as a kiss in public even cross his mind. 

Ever the skilled tactician, Gin had pinpointed the perfect moment to bridge the gap, when Aizen’s defenses were weakest as they indulged in the companionable tranquility. It made him invaluable as both a subordinate and a partner, and Aizen suddenly became aware and ashamed of how little he let Gin know he appreciated him. The man was smart, and he understood Aizen better than anyone ever had before, so Aizen had always assumed that he was well aware of what he meant to him. They worked together, plotted together, nearly lived together with how often Gin snuck into the captain's quarters, and so such vocalizations had always felt trivial when it was pretty clear how they felt about each other. They always showed it in their own unique ways, and yes, it was sometimes hard to pick up on among all the devious adventures and deceiving of institutions, but it had always felt like more than enough.

So Aizen wasn't entirely sure why he set aside his notes and walked purposefully over to the side of the desk where Gin sat, spinning his pen around on his nimble, skeletal fingers. 

"What's up, captain?" 

“I’d really like to kiss you right now," Aizen declared. 

“Eh? You’re serious?" Of course he was. Gin could see it in his eyes. "No," he said. "You can’t just up and steal my thing.” 

“Your thing?”

“Yeah. I got to be the cute one, kissing your neck and all. Ya gotta be more creative, Aizen-taichou.” 

"Perhaps I should shove all this work to the floor and take you on the desk. Is that creative enough?" 

That made Gin laugh, and Aizen was happy enough with that. He reached up and brushed some hair out of his lieutenant’s face, letting his hand linger among the fine silver strands just because he could. Gin seemed to understand, and he tilted his head further into Aizen's hand, letting him indulge himself for once. 

"You can finish this tomorrow," Aizen decided, flexing his authority as captain before quickly returning to a simple man in love. His aspirations were no longer for dominion and revolution, but security and simple physical affections. "I want to go home now." 

"Okay, Aizen-taichou." Gin gently closed the record book and stood up, lacing his fingers with Aizen's at least until they left the room. "Then let's go home."


End file.
